


It's a Dangerous Thing

by niffin (ao3afterdark)



Series: Dropped Call [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Bondage, Gangbang, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Multi, Torture, Voyeurism, i'll add tags as i add chapters, rape/noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7738588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3afterdark/pseuds/niffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hawke is tied down and gangbanged and carver cant quite find it in himself to stop it from happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my hawke is adopted, which doesnt matter quite yet, but will.

His brother doesn’t notice him; he’s distracted. Carver watches as his fellow templars shove and pull and bend Cooper into place and tears his eyes from the sandy gold of skin that rarely sees the sun. The sawhorse has obviously been modified for this - particular purpose. It’s got a wide top (Cooper is arching off it) with sturdy eye hooks at either end for attaching restraints (they’re looping the rope through one right now, fastening Cooper’s bound hands above his head) and leather belts of varying length are arranged neatly nearby (some of his particularly creative comrades are strapping Cooper’s ankles to his thighs, which are already splayed apart and belted down and jerking against their hands).

  
There's shelves and hooks on the walls to hold - Carver can't even imagine what some of those could be used for. He tries to puzzle out the use of some of them to distract himself from the muttering and the strained harsh breathing he well remembers from childhood roughhousing and sparring sessions and grim bloody skirmishes. For once he's glad he's been forgotten; all the attention on his brother (like always) lets him press a trembling hand to his mouth.

  
Carver should stop this. He doesn't know why he's not already stopping it. Never touch a Hawke. We protect each other. That was a basic truth. That's what he was born to do. That's. What he's for. What they've always told him he was for. Help your brother, and maybe some of his angelic goodness will rub off on you.

  
Cooper's still trying to fight but he doesn't have much room left to move; it's mostly just him straining against sturdy leather. Carver closes his eyes and sees pale scars standing out in sharp relief against tanned skin. He shouldn't let this - that's his brother there, spread out and vulnerable for his fri- for templars to rape. He's - he knows the stories of those scars and if he keeps standing here like this he'll be the story behind more.

  
He's startled out of his frozen reverie by a templar he hardly knows. "Never been at one of these before, have you rookie?" she asks, then continues, not waiting for his answer, like everyone else. "Mostly it's just trouble mages who talk back once too much but sometimes we get a special shipment like this one; wonder what he did to deserve it. Cute, this one. Bit feisty eh?" She bumps him with her shoulder and a laugh and he tries not to flinch. "We leave them up there for awhile so take your time deciding, rookie. Or you can watch if that's more your thing." Saunters off, unbuckling her breastplate, while Carver trembles with something undefinable, retreats until his back is against a wall.

  
Cooper doesn't deserve this. He's always been polite, eager to please, to go above and beyond what people want from him. He's perfect, where Carver is crude and selfish and ambitious and. Jealous. Always left behind and ignored while his brother humbly brushes off praise and gratitude from all sides. But - that's not the point. Carver should stop this.

  
They're gathered at Cooper's head now and Carver can't see what they're doing. Moves just a bit; he's looking between Cooper's legs, past his flaccid cock to where they're wrestling with his mouth and. A strap with a ring in the middle. They've just managed to pry his jaws open, fingers digging painfully tight into his cheeks, and as someone tucks the ring behind his teeth he twists and bites down. Spits out someone else's blood to curses and coarse laughter. "Shoulda kept your gauntlets on." The victim swears and heads for the tool wall.

  
There's two people now holding his jaw open and they manage to get the ring aligned behind his teeth and strapped around his head. Carver understands what it's for when he sees Cooper's mouth forced obscenely wide, cords in his neck standing taut as he tries to shift it to no avail. He's so. Defenseless.

  
The bite victim returns with a crop and smashes it down. Cooper barely manages to arch in pain as an angry crimson line blooms across his chest and Carver realizes he's. Hard. Uncomfortably so, but he doesn't dare move to readjust; that's acknowledging it and he is not acknowledging getting turned on by people getting ready to rape his brother. Another crack and a second line parallel to the first: a harsh exhale in reply. His brother is being hurt and he is standing by and watching.

  
A small voice whispers to him in a mocking echo of his own. Doesn't it serve him right though? Always acting like I'm incapable of handling myself. Look who's helpless now. Carver shifts, surreptitiously readjusts. Watching isn't the same as doing. He can - always intervene, later. He'd still be protecting him. Be the uncontested hero for once.

  
There's plenty of welts on Cooper's chest now. They swell where they cross each other and ooze blood but this. Won't scar. There's amiable debate over who goes first; the relative merits of fucking him earlier when he's tight or later when he's pliant; a laughing "take it easy with the whipping, we gotta put him back." Carver shivers in time with Cooper.

  
Someone ends the interminable pause by stepping between his brother's thighs. Laughs that he likes them tight and dry, and Cooper tenses every muscle, before he goes completely lax. He doesn't believe in fighting the inevitable; he still hasn't made a sound. Carver feels sick about being proud, then sicker when the man grips Cooper’s hips and shoves.

  
Carver can somehow hear Cooper's struggling shocked gasp through the conversation. Despite himself Cooper is fighting the intrusion; he can tell by his heaving chest (a droplet of blood beads together then finally drips down across his ribs) and the steady swearing of the man forcing himself inside. Someone else takes their half hard cock out by Cooper's head and is about to slide it into his open mouth when they're told to wait a second. If the whore is choking on your dick he might get too tight to fuck altogether. The man settles his hands tighter on Cooper's hips - Carver can see him going pale around the fingers bruising his hips - and with a breathless laughing moan bottoms out.

  
There's some scattered cheering. The person unceremoniously feeds their cock into Cooper's mouth and starts pumping. Carver isn't sure if he's imagining seeing its shape in Cooper's throat, but his brother is obviously straining for air, chest stopping mid heave when they shove back down his throat. Carver can't seem to stop looking at the hips pressed flush against his ass, the glistening slick shine to the cock thrusting in and out of his mouth. The ever so familiar warmth in his groin has only intensified, joined by another twisting emotion wrapping around his guts that takes Carver a minute to process. A minute spent watching nails break the skin on Cooper's hips, hands trailing leisurely over his body, the crop slapping idly into a palm. It’s jealousy, he realizes. Just aimed at more than its usual suspect.

  
He watches them through the haze in his head. They didn’t deserve to touch his brother like that. His brother. He shivers with rage. He should have first claim. He should be the one pulling out to jerk off on his face, in his hair. He should have been the first one inside him, to leave his cum slicking Cooper’s ass for the next person. Considering how he’s always been left behind, forgotten, ignored, he should be the one laying Cooper out to be used. These people don’t have the the right.

  
Carver doesn’t unbuckle his armor all the way, just far enough to shove his hand down his smalls and grab his cock roughly. The first tug makes him weak-kneed immediately and he slumps against the wall, gasping, like he’s never done it before. Cooper is panting still, exhales forced out of him by hard thrusts in his ass, and Carver surprises himself with the contempt for him he feels. He tightens his hand, jerks off harder as the man makes a disgusting satisfied sound and comes inside Cooper. It’s only when he pulls out and Carver can see the sheen of cum coating Cooper’s thighs and oozing from his ass that Carver comes hard, spattering on the floor.

  
He doesn't think that helped at all. More frustrated than when he began, than when he recognized Cooper, Carver resentfully buckles his armor back on and storms out of the room as the templar who'd spoken to him throws her leg over Cooper's face and settles down with a satisfied sigh. It’s like plunging into a cold lake, stepping out into the hallway, and the door shuts with a soft puff of humid air. It’s silent and still and disorienting, dislodging some of the hostility in his mind so that he stands there uncertain of where he can direct it.

  
"Hawke?"

  
It takes Carver a moment to realize it's directed at him, as it always does, but the irritation is amplified by his queer mood and it's hard to school his face into neutrality when he turns. "Yes, Knight Captain?"

  
Cullen barely tries to conceal the twist of disgust as he looks at the unassuming door behind Carver. "Are you quite done?"

  
Carver flushes, anger turning to ashy resentment and shame. "I did not partake, sir." Not really.

  
He isn't really listening. "Good. Some of the sluts they bring in should be classified as health hazards, I swear -" He shakes his head and drops the subject, distracted. Carver lets himself ball his hands into fists behind his back. Cullen doesn't know it’s his brother in there, and if Carver protests he would find out, and that would be. Bad. For both of them.

  
"We need a replacement for a Harrowing. Someone got injured and can't perform. Come along, we're late as it is." Cullen starts off again, not looking behind to see if Carver follows. Of course he does. He always does what he's told, doesn't he. Orders; and a Harrowing should take the edge off whatever he's feeling. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

Carver cups the softly glowing rune in his palms, clenches his fingers over it and then slips it into his pocket as he pulls the door open.

The fire is down to embers, making shadows dance grotesquely along the walls and the room oppressively warm. Carver can’t find Cooper until the door thuds shut and one of the shadows slumped against the wall jerks and rattles its chains. 

Cooper's tense and rigid and doesn’t recognize him until Carver’s almost upon him. Then he goes limp and makes a relieved sound as Carver kneels. His arms are chained above him but there’s enough slack that he can sit on the floor, ankles spread wide by a bar with cuffs on either end. He looks bad; the cuts on his chest have started to scab over where they aren’t intersected by new welts, and he’s got an array of bruises that are going to be colorful in a day or so. From the way he’s avoiding leaning too hard against the wall they must have beat him there too. The corners of his mouth are cracked, and a nasty looking cut bisects his eyebrow, and his hair has come undone from its usual braid and is hanging in his face, and Carver can see why people call his brother pretty now.

Carver reaches out and Cooper lets his head sink forward, lets Carver fumble the gag off. His mouth falls shut around a soft groan and he closes too bright eyes, lets Carver push his hair out of his face and tie it back. "Carver." His name sounds wet and sticky in Cooper's mouth and the throaty sound sends heat winding its way down his stomach to his groin.

Carver runs his hands up Cooper's arms, barely brushing the skin, until he reaches the manacles. He finds the keyhole as Cooper says, "Took the key with them. Too tight to get out on my own."

Carver had wondered what the key on the hook outside the door was for. "And only one of us can pick locks. Or is likely to have lock picks in the first place. Hold on a second, brother; there's some things I can do."

Carver throws another log onto the fire, coaxing it blazing again until he can see better. He wets some clean rags in the barrel of water; fishes salve he stole from the infirmary out of his pockets. Sits down cross legged and gently starts wiping the blood and - mess from Cooper's face. 

Cooper can't meet his eyes. "You're a welcome sight. But I'm probably not." 

Carver's hard, been hard since he decided and slipped out of his bunk. He's mesmerized by his fingers rubbing the greasy salve into the rope burn around his neck. "I'm so sorry. This is. Should never have happened. Especially to you. And I can't even get you out. I'm sorry."

Cooper shifts in his chains, face unreadable to most but Carver knows the tilt of misery to his mouth. "Nothing for you to apologize for."

Carver remembers the arguments they had when he declared his intention to join the templars. Cooper thought the templars corrupt scum, and if they weren't personally scum they were by association. Hadn't wanted Carver to be one of them. He's always been a liar. Carver keeps his touch gentle as he starts smoothing the wet rag across Cooper's chest.

He's hardly started sponging blood off the welts before Cooper abruptly shifts, drawing back against the wall. "Maybe it's better to find the key. Can clean up after." Carver stills. It takes Cooper a moment to work up the nerve to meet his eyes and there's. Fear in them. Carver finally lets his eyes fall.

Cooper's hard. His cock is stiff and red and Carver feels a sympathy pang when he sees the leather strap pinching tight around his cock and balls. Who knows how long they left him like this. The pang turns into a hot spike of arousal.

"Cooper, what the fuck."

He's never seen his brother look so miserable. Humiliated and ashamed. Cooper shifts again, trying to pull his knees together and conceal his erection and failing. "Unavoidable physical reaction, Carver. Like you've never woken up like this." The joke falls flat.

Carver sits back on his heels, shakes his head. "I didn't think you would get off on this. I honestly thought better of you."

Cooper's face clouds in confusion. "What?"

"You let people think you're so, dignified and, honorable. Make yourself out to be some kinda martyr, too pure to associate with the rest of us. And then I leave you for a few hours and you've been enjoying it."

The confusion clears from his face, leaving a still disbelief. "You left?" His voice is flat, icy.

"When did it start feeling good? When that bitch made you go down on her? Or were you actually begging for that cock in your ass. Cocks. Thought you might have been struggling but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."

Cooper is taking deep, shuddery breaths. His eyes are fixed on Carver's with a fury Carver's never seen before. Not when their father died, not when they were driven out of Ferelden. He's always thought there must be an actual person under that angelic act Cooper puts on, and here he is.

"You knew I was here. What was happening. You didn't. Do anything." It's little more than a hoarse whisper. Not a question. Just a confirmation of fact. Carver says nothing.

Cooper does his best to lunge at Carver and only succeeds in wrenching his shoulders and reopening some of the cuts. Blood starts oozing down his chest but he's past noticing. Actually shouts at him. "Why?"

Carver pushes forward until their faces are mere inches from each other. Cooper is so small. "You heard me. You think I'm a helpless babe, unable to do anything without your oh so generous guidance. I've never needed you to try and protect me. As if you would have cared so much if people didn't kiss your ass for it."

Cooper's face twists with rage and it's shocking, really, how expressive he can be when provoked enough. "I wasn't -"

"You were! It was always about you. How much better you were. Well we're all weak, brother. You just managed to hide it for longer. But now I know. That you're a fucking whore. And no brother of mine."

He's swallowed those words for so long, thinking them unfair, cruel, but Maker it feels good to say. Carver can see Cooper's words strangle themselves in his throat. He starts scrubbing Cooper's chest again, no longer bothering to be gentle. Cooper has his jaw clenched tight, refusing to make a sound even as Carver moves to the pulley and starts hauling him up. Carver hesitates, then leaves Cooper enough slack to stand flat on his feet.

Carver lets himself really look at Cooper in a way he's never admitted to wanting to, had still been too ashamed to do earlier with so many people in the room. He usually just meets Carver's chin, but with his legs spread wide he's barely chest level. Thin shoulders, every rib visible and straining under skin too abused to be the gold Carver remembers. A waist Carver could probably encircle with his hands, slender hips and the angry, painful erection he's been forced to hold. Carver feels a small thrill of satisfaction that he's bigger soft than Cooper is hard.

He moves behind Cooper and freezes in shock. They went at him hard. Carver's not sure there's an inch of untouched skin. It's excessive. 

Carver doesn't realize he said it out loud until Cooper grinds out, "They took the gag out. Sent someone to the infirmary." He pauses. "For reattachment."

Carver laughs admiringly. "Brother, you are something else." Cooper's shoulders pull back at the word brother, and Carver starts cleaning the whip marks on them, avoiding damaging the skin further. He reckons it takes him a full half hour before he's finished. 

It's some kind of artistry, is what it is, once the gore is gone and he can see it clearly. Elegant, almost. The crosshatching fades out around his neck, the backs of his arms, his thighs. Carver lets his hand hover a breath away from an area on his hip that's nearly flayed and watches Cooper shiver away from it. It's hard to draw breath against the demanding heat in his stomach. 

"Finish what you came here for." Cooper's keeping his voice flat but he can't keep all of the tremble out of it. Stupid of him, never to have expected Carver's resentment, to have tried to make it up to him. And now he's scared of him. Trying to hide it. 

"Cooper, you are in no position to be making demands." Incredible really; sheer arrogance. Carver drops his hand to skin and watches Cooper arch away, lips parted. "You just assume I'll fall into place at your heels again, so used to taking orders from you and listening to your, your infinite fucking wisdom? You still think everything's going to work out the way you want? That I'm gonna do what you want?" Cooper hisses and Carver realizes he's digging his nails in, a mirror image of that man who had taken Cooper first today, and the last traces of doubt about his actions fall away if he had never had any other choice. 

"Carver!" Cooper's voice is shocked, breathless from pain, and Carver grabs his other hip and drags him back to meet his erection. 

" _ Carver! _ " He's fighting against the chains, trying to get away, but he just succeeds in wriggling deliciously against his cock. "What are you - stop!"

"Unavoidable physical reaction, brother, don't be a hypocrite." He grinds his erection into Cooper, slowly, sparks shooting up his spine, and wraps his arms around his waist. "You gave it up for half the barracks but start protesting when it's me?"

Cooper makes a wordless sound of rage and shame but there's nothing really for him to say and he knows it. Nowhere for him to go. Carver steps on the bar between his ankles to stop him from hurting himself and lets his hands roam, cock still pressed to the small of his back. He wonders how sensitive his brother would be if he hadn't been beaten to within an inch of his life. As it is Cooper is trembling wherever he isn't twitching under every brush of Carver's fingers, snarled curses interrupted by gasps. Of pain or arousal, Carver can't tell. 

He settles his boot more securely on the spreader bar and runs his palms slowly up the inside of Cooper's thighs. "Stop. Stop! I don't  _ want _ this, Carver, you bastard, let go of me!" Carver whispers something about irony as he drags his finger along his balls and Cooper clamps his teeth shut on something that sounds suspiciously like a whine. 

Carver rests his chin on Cooper’s shoulder. He wraps his hand tight around Cooper’s cock and hums appreciatively into his ear when he arches into it. “Tell me something. Did you tell them you didn’t want it? Did they believe you? Because I don’t.” 

He bites the curve where Cooper’s neck meets his shoulder and tugs hard on his cock. Cooper chokes out half of Carver's name as he brings his other hand down to fondle his balls. He strangles a scream and bucks into Carver’s hands once, again, before he goes limp in his arms with a sobbing breath. He didn’t come; at least Carver knows what the strap is for now. “Maker. I can’t believe people, our family respects you. You slut.” Carver reaches up to cradle his throat, feel the tendons taut in Cooper’s neck. He wants to bury himself in Cooper but. Not yet. He doesn’t understand yet.

Carver grinds his erection into Cooper’s ass again, hard, before he lets go and Cooper sags. He yanks on the pulley and Cooper thuds to his skinned knees with a sharp yell of pain. Carver stands in front of him. He’s used to looking down at Cooper but it’s different, heady, when his brother is beaten, bound and on his knees. It takes Cooper a moment to raise red-rimmed eyes to Carver’s; then he spits at his feet and says without looking away, “Father would be ashamed.”

Carver goes cold, then hot. Jams his foot against Cooper’s cock, hears him scream through the roaring in his ears. “You’re no son of his.”

He’s writhing under his boot but still manages to snarl, “No more than you are, you piece of shit -” before Carver draws back and kicks him. He curls around himself as best he can and Carver can see tears drop onto the flagstones. That soothes some of the blistering fury and Carver turns his back on Cooper, takes a deep breath; another one. He hears choking gasps; reminds himself that Cooper can’t do anything, can’t fight him, can’t resist. Words are all he has left to try to control Carver.

Carver opens his eyes against the red glare of the fire, sees the poker gently glowing in the coals. He has everything he needs, and Cooper has nothing. He just needs to see that.

He kneels down next to Cooper. Runs his thumb over his cheekbone, then down to lift his chin up. Cooper's only upright by virtue of his chains, but he still tries to jerk his face away. It's easy enough to hold onto him. "Brother, listen."

His eyes are locked somewhere in the vicinity of Carver's face. Good enough. "You've always had people adoring you. They think you're perfect. I thought so too, once. But you're not, no matter how hard you try to convince me." He pulls him closer, says almost beseechingly, "I need you to know this. You made me do this, Cooper."

Carver reaches his other hand down to squeeze Cooper's cock; Coop closes his eyes and sobs once, softly. "I'm not cruel, brother; I want you to enjoy it too. But," Cooper yanks on the chains to try and pull himself away but doesn't get very far before Carver hooks him back in. "You need to ask for it."

Carver thinks it's a sob until Cooper meets his eyes. There's a wild kind of look in them and Cooper grins, wide, bloody. "Eat shit."

He's disappointed. Cooper had to make things difficult, had to want the last word. Well. There's all sorts of ways of persuading someone. Templars are good at persuading.

Carver holds Cooper still and leans forward to mouth at the curve of his throat. He tastes like sweat and blood and heavier things where Carver swipes his tongue along his jaw. His pulse jumps frantically under his lips; Carver can feel the whimper building in his throat that he's locking behind clenched teeth. He squeezes up Cooper's cock as he nips at his collarbone and he moans outright, shaking. "Coop. Ask me to let you come."

Cooper whines at Carver's breath on his skin as his hips jerk to follow his hand, and says, "No."

"This doesn't have to hurt anymore." Carver rubs circles into a dark brown nipple and pumps Cooper's cock slowly and he's writhing again, mouth open, panting but not saying a word. He pushes him back to suck the nipple into his mouth, speeds up his hand, and his helpless cries are cracking and echoing off the walls. "All I have to do is take the strap off. We could both feel good."

Carver pulls away slightly and Cooper thoughtlessly follows with a broken moan; Carver likes that, is certain he's about to break. Cooper shudders, bucks his hips into his hand, and rasps, "Rather wait for my dick to fall off."

Carver swallows down bitter fury and stands up. Cooper keens and jerks forward, clearly desperate for contact, before he subsides and draws in great gasping breaths. Carver grabs the poker and considers Cooper, looks for someplace relatively unscathed. Holds it a couple inches away from Cooper's right thigh and looks his brother in the eyes.

"That's gonna be permanent, Carver." His voice wobbles, breaks on his name.

"Yeah. Beg me to let you come."

"Father always said -" Carver moves it closer to his skin and Cooper clenches his teeth shut, forces out his words. "Fire's a pain that won't go away."

"Beg."

They're silent, staring. He doesn't think Carver will do it. Carver's not sure he wants to anymore; this is. He hadn't thought when he'd decided this that he would be standing above his brother, threatening him, ready to hurt him. Badly. But he'd given Cooper a choice, and he'd made his decision, and it would be weak of him to. It's too late for either of them to back out, now.

He takes a deep breath and hope flickers briefly in Cooper's eyes before the poker touches his skin and he screams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who forgot to post this. for a year.
> 
> coop is the oldest sibling; the oldest non adopted sibling is thea, ao3afterdark's oc, who's crushed on him since forever. and in this au, fucked him while he was sleeping.

Carver's sure he only lets it rest there for a second but when he pulls it away it's already mottled with blisters; the scent of burned flesh reaches him a second after Cooper's sobbing gasp. Every muscle is locked tight, taut, and when Cooper finally opens his eyes tears stain his cheeks. He spits a curse, then another, and Carver hates that he feels guilty.

"You could have avoided this, Cooper. We could have worked this out." He tries to shy away from Carver's hand in his hair but he forces him to meet his eyes. "Just ask."

Cooper's pupils are blown wide, surrounded by the thinnest margin of brown one shade off from black. He's wheezing, sweat dripping and mixing with the blood from where he's bitten through his lip and Carver has never been so aroused in his life. "Fuck you."

He swallows the anger, huffs, shakes his head. "I’m going to, regardless. Wanted you to enjoy it too." Carver drops the poker; unhooks the manacles from the chains. Plants a boot in Cooper's chest and sends him sprawling backwards with a yelp. His muscles are too stiff and cramped for him to do more than moan and shake with the blood circulating through his arms again, and Carver takes his time unlocking the cuffs around his ankles and kicking it away. The bar would just get in the way now, as he kneels between Cooper's legs, pins his wrists above his head and starts unlacing his trousers.

Cooper rouses himself when Carver settles his hips against his ass, spreading his thighs with his own. His rasping breaths are hot against Carver's chest; Carver doesn't have to stretch to keep his wrists pinned. Cooper bends his head back to look up at Carver blearily and makes a sound halfway between a hiccup and a laugh. "Of course you'd have the key. You sick fuck." His voice cuts off on an inhale as Carver places the head of his cock at Cooper's entrance. 

"Just say it, brother, and I can make this feel good for both of us." The poker is still glowing softly within reach and they both know it.

"No brother of mine."

That shouldn't surprise him like it does, considering how upset Cooper must be at Carver's rebellion. He didn't expect Cooper to go as far as disowning him. Well, Carver thinks with sudden vengefulness, that's that then. Reaches for the poker and as he shoves inside Cooper he presses it against the tender flesh on the inside of Cooper's bicep. He's hot and slick and clenches so tight around him when he screams that Carver can't move, can't breathe and comes a little bit right then and there. Drops the poker and groans into his ear as Cooper sobs and breaks apart under him.

"Oh,  _ fuck _ , Coop, you're still so tight; even after getting fucked all day." He's really crying now, sharp wet sobs that choke off every time Carver pushes himself back inside. He settles his fingers more securely around Cooper's wrists, stabilizes him so that he isn't sliding away with every hard thrust. Cooper arches from the pressure on his wrists and brushes his erection against Carver's stomach. His next sob comes higher, longer, and becomes a definite moan when Carver angles his hips up on the next thrust.

Cooper starts fighting again. Doesn't care, apparently, how trying to throw Carver off ends up driving him deeper, or that he's pressed himself against his chest. "Stop!" His mouth closes around a shape that might have been a 'please.'

Carver smiles. Kisses Cooper's forehead before sliding his free hand down his chest. Cooper cries out, too far gone for words now, struggling until Carver wraps his hand around his cock and tugs in time with a hard thrust and Cooper goes taut and twitching in Carver's hand. There's the slightest bit of slickness over his fingers but nothing else. Carver didn't think it was possible but Cooper winds even tighter, eyes unfocused, loud moans vibrating through them where they were pressed together.

"Beg, Cooper, and you can come." Tears streak down his temples. His mouth trembles, opens, but no words come out. 

"Come on brother, let me do this for you. I don't want to send you back like this. Damaged is one thing, but aroused? Imagine Mother seeing you like this. Or Thea, she - wouldn't..."

Cooper's eyes clear; he stiffens and goes silent, clenching his jaw shut on his sobs. Carver watches emotions flicker across his face before he locks them down behind a poker face; but Carver can see the cracks in it now.

"You're kidding me." Cooper's back to trying to be expressionless but there's a particular hollowness to his gaze, a trembling of his mouth, that means. Guilt. Carver stills his hips, just. Surprised. 

"How long has  _ that _ been going on?" His breaths are still coming in strained hiccups, but that's the only reaction Cooper's allowing himself; he's gone absolutely still under Carver. Carver doesn't even think he's angry about Cooper and Thea fucking. Isn't this punishment enough for that too?

"Go on then. When did you finally say yes?" He doesn't really expect an answer, and he doesn't really get one, but Cooper almost makes a sound but clenches his teeth shut on it, eyes tight and hollow. Carver settles himself on his elbows and cups his cheek, tilts his face up. Cooper doesn't resist his hand but refuses to look at him and Carver sighs. He pulls out and pretends not to notice Cooper’s small gasp of loss. Does rake his eyes over him; he’s frozen the way Carver left him, splayed wide and leaking now, again, with a hint of blood, and Carver already misses being inside him.

"Ah, brother, you were so vocal just now too." Cooper almost meets his eyes but catches himself, maintains his thousand yard stare, until Carver hefts the poker. Cooper flinches and suddenly twists to his feet, tries to make a run for it. Carver starts after him, heart suddenly in his mouth, but Cooper doesn’t get far; his burned thigh spasms and gives out, tumbling him to the ground again. Carver places his boot on his chest and pushes down until Cooper can’t draw a full breath anymore. 

"You can tell me about you two, or I can tell Thea about how you begged the garrison to fuck you until you couldn't stand. Or I could see if she wants to take your place." Cooper’s starting to hyperventilate, unable to take his eyes from the poker, but he keeps his mouth shut until Carver lays it across his thigh an inch below the first one, holds it there as he screams again, until the scream turns into “Don’t! I’ll tell you!”

Carver takes it away. The blisters parallel each other, crimson and bubbled white against Cooper's uneven tan. He turns and places the poker back in the fire as Cooper sobs hard behind him. Gives him time to compose himself. He can afford to be gracious now.

It feels like both a moment and an eternity later when his hiccuping cries finally peter out. Cooper tries to say something but his throat must be sore from - all sorts of things, really, because it takes him three tries to work intelligible words out. "Don’t touch Thea."

“Mm. Well, she  _ is _ my sister." Cooper closes his eyes.

"Promise me. On Father's grave."

Carver says, "I promise." Doesn't say that Cooper's father probably died in a ditch; probably wouldn't've deserved a grave. Carver's no brother to Cooper, after all. He owes nothing to whatever half breed helped spawn Cooper.

Cooper's face goes slack with relief.  _ Naïveté, brother. _ He struggles back to his knees, tucks his feet under him like he's done as long as Carver can remember. Keeps his head bent as he asks, "What do you want to know."

This feeling is what Carver hadn't known he'd come here hoping to feel. Cooper broken, obedient, subservient. "How was it?"

Cooper's trying hard to settle his broken mask back on; he says quietly, "We - I. Was drunk."

"What, just you?" The silence stretches; Carver prods the fire and Cooper flinches at the sparks. "This really isn't the best time for being taciturn."

"I was drunk. She was. Getting ready for bed. I... Touched her."

"Wow. Bit of a change from the usual."

Something flickers over his face, leaves a residue of uneasiness. "Yes."

"Thea must have been thrilled. Can't imagine you're as much fun asleep, now that I've had you awake."

His face twists hard after a moment and he looks down. Clenches his fists until they shake. Carver grins slightly as he shudders all the way down his spine, before raising his head again to stare at the wall behind Carver with the stoniest expression he can manage.

"It was. A mistake. She's. Our sister." He puts the faintest emphasis on  _ our _ , as if he really thought he's good enough to be one of them. His father may have thought so, but Carver always thought Malcolm was generous to a fault. Why else would they have worked their way across Ferelden, barely surviving on the hedge magic he would near give away? What was Cooper if not an extended exercise in pity?

"She show you the things she learned about you? Bet sucking someone off is rather more enjoyable when they're awake. Not that I would know, but she's certainly had enough practice -"

"Don't - do not. Talk about her." Cooper, hurt and frightened as he must be, still manages a glare that almost throws Carver off.

"Talk and I won't have to. How'd you fuck her?" Carver likes the near vicious snarl on his face that fades immediately into shame, likes the whimper he makes when Carver pokes at the fire one last time. When he settles himself cross legged Cooper can't meet his eyes anymore.

"I - she was on top."

Carver makes a considering sound, watches Cooper swallow heavily. "I'm having trouble visualizing this. Why don't you demonstrate."

Cooper doesn't move for a long moment; then he shuffles over to Carver on his skinned knees and reaches his cuffed hands out. Hesitates. Carver remembers suddenly; he knows what his brother is capable of, and even with the cuffs, even now, if he really wanted to hurt Carver, he could. His hands are a breath away from Carver's throat, long fingers trembling, and while he couldn't win in his state, he could make a damn good try. Carver doesn't move to defend himself, doesn't move at all; the frisson of fear makes it all the more satisfying when Cooper merely splays his fingers over his chest and pushes.

Carver snags his hand in his own, tightens his hold when Cooper tries to pull away. "Did you kiss her?"

A strange look flickers across his face and is gone, leaving blank emptiness in its wake. "No."

"Where's your sense of romance?" Carver decides kissing him would be a bad idea, lifts his arms and settles his cuffs behind his neck in a parody of intimacy. He can't hide the curl of revulsion at Carver's face so close to his own, can't hide the spark of rebellion in his eyes before he closes them. Carver smiles at him as he finishes the movement and straddles his hips, trying to keep as much space between them as possible.

Cooper stops again mere inches from sliding Carver's cock back inside him, trembling from pain and arousal and fear and simple exhaustion. He tries to quell his impatience, but he's missed Cooper's tight heat since he left it. Coaxes him along with a hand slipping dangerously close to his burns, the implicit threat prompting a muffled whimper.

He braces his bound arms on Carver's shoulders and starts lowering himself onto Carver's cock. He's trying to keep his face impassive still, but his breath is still hitching from the last of the sobs and he can't still the trembling of his mouth. Gasps when he feels Carver's cock brush against him and he tenses, anger to despair to something resembling hatred on his face in the split second before it stiffens into blankness. He spreads his knees wider and takes Carver.

Cooper locks his jaw and doesn't make a sound, but Carver moans low in his throat just to see the ripple on Cooper's face. It's a jerky and slow process and Carver savors it: full lips pressed into a trembling line, chest heaving with every inch he slides Carver inside him. He lets his hands rest on Cooper's thighs so he can feel him shifting to take him deeper, and when Cooper finally settles in his lap he runs them lightly over the tortured skin and cradles his hipbones. 

“Wasn't so hard now, was it?”

Cooper can't look at him, which Carver doesn't mind. Lets himself feel Cooper tightening with every shaky inhale, and then very slowly, eyes on his face, slides a hand towards Cooper's cock. 

He pushes away but can't get far, with his arms around Carver’s neck and Carver’s hand solid on his hip, so he just curls in on himself as far away from him as possible. It's a clear struggle for him to stay still, twitching under Carver’s hands with aborted movements, and his eyes are getting wider, his breaths shorter, with every teasing brush up the insides of his thighs. 

Cooper whines and tenses when Carver curls his fingers around his cock, gasps when he slowly drags them up and rubs his palms over the tip. Carver squeezes and Cooper arches upward into his hand with a cry. He murmurs soothingly in Cooper's ear, like he would a wounded animal. “There now, that was good, for both of us. That's what I wanted.”

Cooper ducks his head and makes a strangled sound. Carver pushes his hips back down, leaves his hand where it is. “Come on now. Do that again. Like this.” Slides his free hand under his thigh and lifts him as he slides his other hand down and is rewarded with a shuddering moan that turns into a snarl. He looks back up, tense, eyes glittering, and he almost looks fearsome for a second. Carver lets go and the illusion is shattered. He can barely support himself without Carver’s help, and drops. Carver slides back into him with almost no resistance, slick and hot, tightening when Cooper moans with shame. 

Carver waits, unbreathing, fingers still in a loose circle around Cooper's twitching cock. Waits for Cooper to decide if he needs more persuasion. It's a minute of trembling before Cooper forces his muscles to move, shoulders shaking as he uses Carver to push himself up, slowly. He stands no chance of letting Carver slip out; even with thighs fully extended, Carver is still deep enough to feel him flutter around the head of his cock. The trip back down is easier for him, gravity helping him drive Carver deep inside him again with another begging moan.

The next time he lifts himself Carver tightens his hold on Cooper's cock and makes him gasp. Carver isn't sure if he's imagining the slight roll of Cooper's hips into his hand. Braces his other on the small of Cooper’s back, tilts his hips just enough to rip a shocked groan out of him as Carver’s cock slides against his prostate. Cooper rolls his hips this time for sure, and Carver grins. 

“There you are, brother, there you go.” Cooper whimpers in response and Carver lets himself relax. He won't fight any more. Not tonight. Cooper doesn't need his help to hit his prostate anymore, or to buck into Carver’s hand. He's been breathing out tiny things that could barely be called sounds, constant, insistent. Carver winds his hand into his hair and pulls tight to watch his face. He's flushed bright now, heavy lidded and trembling lips pressed tight to hold back - something. Tries, still, even now as he's fucking himself hard and desperate on Carver’s cock, to pull away. Carver keeps him there, lets go of his cock to trace a finger along the leather strap and watches Cooper bow towards it, mouth falling open on a word that he turns into a moan before it betrays him. 

Carver speaks for him, toying with the strap, making Cooper grind himself down on his cock even as he sobs sounds of protest. “You're being so good right now, Cooper, you sweet little whore, you've wanted to come all day but you've been waiting for me, bet you could come without me even touching your slutty cock, think you could get yourself off just fucking your brother can't you -”

Cooper sobs, glares at him and hisses, “I hate you.” And Carver smiles at him and slips the tie and his face washes out of everything but lust, raw and burning. Goes rigid in Carver’s lap, pushing Carver deeper still with aborted jerks as he comes hot across Carver’s stomach, damp through his shirt. His gaze is locked on Carver’s and the hatred in them is wiped away in wide eyed pleasure, rasping sounds scraping out what's left of the oxygen in his lungs. There's nothing behind his eyes anymore, nobody; no  _ Cooper. _ Just the shock of pure physical release. It's the knowledge that he was the one who erased Cooper and made him an empty vessel that sends Carver over the edge too into the hardest orgasm of his life.

He comes back to himself with Cooper limp and pliable in his lap, his mouth fastened to his shoulder and the taste of copper on his tongue. Cooper is quiet, as quiet as he's ever been, and when Carver lifts his bloody mouth from him and looks into his eyes, the remoteness almost scares him. Seems like Cooper wanted to stay wherever his mind had gone when he came. There's just empty loathing in his eyes. Carver had thought to make him clean his cum off his stomach, but dismisses the thought for later. Pushes Cooper's arms off from around his neck and shoves him onto the floor, his cock popping out with an obscenely wet sound. Gets to his feet, joints cracking, and looks down at Cooper. Says too loudly, to cover the sudden crushing doubt, “I think you'll have the hang of it next time.”

Cooper doesn't react. Carver tells himself to forget it. He got what he came for; he won. And there's all the time in the world, really. Drags Cooper by the chain between his wrists back to the wall where he first found him and hooks him back up. Leaves everything else; nobody would be surprised if somebody had come to use Cooper in the night. No sense in cleaning up. He picks at his damp shirt as he turns to leave; pauses; turns around to fasten the leather cock ring around Cooper's wrist. Something flickers across his face and there, is the feeling of victory Carver is seeking. Shuts the door gently on Cooper, lying silent and bloody and satisfied (he might not agree, but he is. He is.) against the wall.


End file.
